


And I Told You To Be Patient

by cherryblossombomb



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Coming Out, Fluff, Holding Hands, M/M, but I just find it really cute, seriously so much introspection on the hand holding it's ridiculous
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-30
Updated: 2012-08-30
Packaged: 2017-11-13 04:05:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/499270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherryblossombomb/pseuds/cherryblossombomb
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Right, so.</p><p>Coming out to his dad. He could do this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And I Told You To Be Patient

Right, so.

Coming out to his dad. He could do this.

He’d encountered paralysis-inducing lizards, threatening werewolves, insane kids with guns, and psychopathic grandfathers who got a kick out of torturing people. Coming out to his dad should’ve been as easy as breathing, considering.

But despite all of that, and even knowing his dad probably wouldn’t mind at all, he could still feel his heart beating erratically, and he was momentarily scared it would burst through his ribcage because while his dad probably wouldn’t mind that he was bi, he might be slightly taken aback by Stiles’s boyfriend.

“Stiles, calm down,” Derek muttered gruffly, not taking his eyes off of the road as Stiles pulled up to his house. Stiles’s hands were white as he clutched the steering wheel like a lifeline, and he jerked in surprise when he heard Derek’s voice.

“Wh— I’m fine, dude. Don’t worry,” he said, lips twitching into some kind of cross between a smile and a grimace, like he didn’t understand what Derek was talking about. He inhaled sharply when Derek’s hand fell over his own, slowly wrapping around it until they were actually holding hands. Stiles flushed slightly, feeling warm suddenly, and then felt stupid for getting more flustered over this than he did with sex or kissing. He almost felt pins and needles go through him, immeasurably pleased and maybe even kind of touched that Derek would go so far as to be affectionate just to calm him down.

“You’re shaking,” said Derek, monotonous even as his eyebrows rose. He didn’t sound teasing like he normally did, just observational, and Stiles blinked a few times before giving a little grin, realising he was actually concerned.

“It’s really kind of sweet that you’re worried about me,” he said cheekily, fully anticipating an ‘I’ll rip your throat out’ threat.

But Derek just rolled his eyes, as always, and shook his head. “Idiot,” he said, but then tugged Stiles towards him as he leaned forwards to brush their lips together, chaste and sweet and reassuring.

Stiles’s eyes fluttered open a few heartbeats after they pulled away, and gave a small smile to Derek’s expectant look.

“Ready when you are,” he said easily, giving a casual one-shouldered shrug. Derek scrutinised him a moment longer, but slid out of the car as Stiles reminded himself to breathe. He swallowed thickly, heart beating fast again as soon as Derek had let go of his hand, and jolted a little in his seat when his door was pulled open.

“You sure?” asked Derek, seeming impassive, but the way he absently squeezed Stiles’s thigh belied his apathy.

Calmed ever so slightly even by that one gesture, Stiles spared him a weak smile. “Yeah,” he said and, not liking the way his voice squeaked, he cleared his throat and repeated, “Yeah, totally.”

He scrambled out the jeep and shut the door quietly, like it would give him more time to think about what to say. But he couldn’t - he couldn’t think of words, how to make a script in his head, because his mind continued to stray to his dad’s face going through a myriad of emotions - disappointment, disgust, fury. He was sure his dad wouldn’t care about his sexuality, maybe had even suspected it, but he was so nervous because - because he needed him to accept Derek.

He wondered if his mom would have.

“Stiles,” Derek said again. He didn’t make false promises of _it’ll be fine_ , and Stiles appreciated it.

“Um. I — can I —” Stiles pursed his lips and grabbed Derek’s hand, not meeting his gaze and hoping with everything he had he wouldn’t let go.

Derek squeezed harder.

Stiles exhaled, a sort of shaky sigh, and he jammed the key in the lock, missing the first few times because his hands were trembling so hard.

“Hi, son,” Dad called from inside as the door creaked open, and Stiles felt his heartbeat shoot rapidly in his chest, fast as flying bullets, and he suddenly felt kind of like he wanted to throw up.

Feigning nonchalance, he adjusted his bag on his shoulder - a nervous habit - and greeted, “Hey, Dad,” relieved that his voice didn’t hitch.

After a few seconds of silence, his dad finally looked up, confused by the quiet for a moment, wondering why Stiles hadn’t asked what he’d eaten, and then immediately zeroed in on Derek Hale standing right beside Stiles, their hands interlocked tightly. He briefly entertained the notion of a hostage situation, but as soon as the thought came it vanished again. His son was wearing the look he’d worn when he’d come home bloodied and bruised; scared, hiding something, and guilty that he was.

Hale had been staring blankly back at him, but suddenly turned to Stiles abruptly, gazing at him with what he’d always thought was some kind of killer intent. But right now, seeing their hands locked together so tightly, he realised that Hale was - worried. About Stiles.

None of them spoke for a while. He didn’t know what to say, felt his tongue dry up in his throat, as he stared at them, weighing them up and wondering if this was a really well acted prank, or a farce because Hale had broken the law, or if it was serious.

But he would probably have to speak soon, judging by his son’s tremulous breaths that sounded like the beginnings of a panic attack.

“Uh, Dad. I—” Stiles’s breath hitched, and Derek shifted even  _closer_ , which the Sheriff hadn’t thought possible.

“Stiles,” said Derek, quiet, almost reverent, and Stiles jerked up, eyes wide and slightly wet, and he swallowed thickly. He looked back at Derek with the same sort of look that he didn’t know how to discern.

But it reminded him of how he’d looked at his wife…

“Um,” Stiles said, blinking rapidly as he turned away from Derek, and it looked like he had to force himself to do so. They hadn’t let go of each other’s hands, grasping - no,  _clutching_  - in a tight-knuckled grip, like letting go would physically hurt them. “Dad,” he said, drawing him out of his concentration on their hands, and he looked at his son again. “Dad, Derek’s - um. Derek and I are together. We’re together.” His eyes were so wide, shining brightly with determination and anxiety, and he’d always hated seeing fear in those eyes. Stiles licked his lips, shifting from foot to foot, like he had no idea what to do from here.

Truth be told, nor did he.

“I, uh. You might think this is like a joke or something, but it’s not.” He laughed, sounding just a little bit hysterical and tearful. “It’s really not. I wouldn’t put myself through - through this stress. Wow.” He ran his free hand over his buzz cut, licked his lips again, and then looked down at the floor. “I just. There’s probably a lot of stuff me and Derek have gotta tell you,” he said, glancing at Hale then, whose gaze hadn’t wavered. He inclined his head, just fractionally, and the Sheriff couldn’t help but watch as he squeezed Stiles’s hand. “But that’s — that’ll have to come later, and I’m sorry for keeping all this from you, but I really couldn’t—” He breathed in deeply, the sound shaky, and he swallowed thickly again before meeting his dad’s gaze straight on. “But just - just please believe me when I say that Derek’s a - he’s a  _good_   _guy_ , Dad, honest. I mean, sure, he’s a grumpy jerk even on good days, but he’s saved my life and he… makes me happy.” He bit his lip. “Say something, Dad.”

He shook his head, realising he hadn’t actually spoken for a long time, and opened his mouth. No words were forthcoming, none spilled out on a whim like they did with Stiles, but he looked so scared and distraught, he couldn’t _not_  speak. Couldn’t let Stiles think he was angry. “I… Honestly, I’m just surprised, son,” he said finally, tongue like lead in his throat. He breathed in deeply and levelled a steely look on Hale, who finally turned to look at him again, seeming as calm and collected as ever. “Derek,” he said, trying not to make the name sound like poison, “do you - do you feel the same way as Stiles?”

Derek gave a curt nod before realising that it wasn’t answer enough. His nostrils flared slightly and his brows furrowed together, like he was struggling to find words and, well, that made two of them. “Yeah. Yeah, I do,” he said, quiet, and looked at Stiles. “He’s saved my life too. More than once.” Stiles finally dragged his gaze up from the floor to meet Derek’s. “He’s… helped me. A lot. I have a lot of issues. I don’t… trust. Easily.” He scowled, but Stiles was staring at him open-mouthed, like it was the first time he’d heard any of this too. “But your son has mine.” He gave Stiles a small smile, and Stiles just  _stared._  “He means a lot to me,” Derek said after a long moment, long enough to make the Sheriff feel like an intruder on such a private, intimate moment. Derek looked back at him, smile disappearing, but Stiles’s gaze remained on Derek. “Your approval would mean a lot too. Sir.”

Well, it was obvious, wasn’t it? He could hardly  _disapprove_  when Stiles was looking at the guy like that. He sighed, surprised and frustrated and completely taken off-guard, and he brushed a hand over his mouth as he stared at them. He dropped his hands and shrugged, giving a tight-lipped smile.

“Stiles,” he said, and Stiles broke away from whatever stupor he was in, turning to his dad with wide eyes.

“Dad, I’m - I, uh…” He shuffled awkwardly, not sure what to say, and neither was the Sheriff, so he pushed himself up from his chair and walked over to his son, dragging him into a tight hug. Stiles was stiff in his arms, and he could feel his shoulders quivering, so he patted his back and held him tighter.

“Son, it’s okay,” he said gruffly, feeling a bit choked. They rarely talked seriously, didn’t often have time for moments like this, and didn’t really “do” feelings. But he knew Stiles had been stressed and scared and distraught for a while now, and it might not have been just because of -  _this_ , but knowing that he’d hesitated to tell his dad struck something in him, and he didn’t really want to think about that. “It’s fine, it is.” He pulled away slowly, gripping Stiles’s shoulders, and looked him in the eye. “I don’t mind. I mean, I’m kind of…” He glanced at Derek and shook his head. “I’m surprised that it’s him, to be honest, son, but… if he makes you happy, I can’t take that away from you. And if you say he’s a good guy… well.” He let go of Stiles and turned to Derek, raising his eyebrows and stiffly sticking out a hand. “Guess I’ll have to take your word for it.”

Derek blinked at him, hesitating for a moment before taking his hand and shaking it curtly, succinct.

“Welcome to the family, Derek.” He smiled, and Derek’s lips parted in surprise, before he regained his composure and nodded once.

“Thank you, Sheriff,” he said.

“Thanks, Dad,” Stiles added, voice slightly hoarse, but he was quick to mask his gratitude and earnestness, clearing his throat and stretching. “Well, not that this hasn’t been fun, but I’m tired and I think I’ll get some sleep.” It was an escape and diversion tactic and they all knew it, but he was somewhat grateful for familiar ground to tread on.

“Sure, kiddo,” he said, ruffling the small tufts of hair on Stiles’s head, sparing a moment to wonder when he’s last cut it.

Stiles glanced at Derek, looking conflicted. Derek didn’t give away what he was thinking, but he said calmly, “I should be leaving,” obviously for the Sheriff’s benefit.

“If you want,” Stiles said with a shrug, even though his eyes were pleading him to stay. The Sheriff half expected Derek to dismiss it, to just leave in silence, but he was surprised when Derek grabbed Stiles’s shoulder and yanked him into a tight hug, closing his eyes and inhaling deeply as Stiles’s hands fisted Derek’s jacket in an unrelenting grip.

The Sheriff turned away, feeling like an intruder again. He wasn’t - he _couldn’t_  let Stiles and Derek, uh, do anything. Stiles was still legally a kid, and he wasn’t  _allowed_ , and he himself wasn’t ready to know about Stiles… doing anything. Never would be. But Stiles was obviously still shaken, evidently needed Derek around for a while…

He sighed, rubbing his temples. “It’s late,” he said. “You should stay the night. If you’re prepared to eat steamed vegetables.”

“Are - are you sure, Dad?” Stiles asked like he hadn’t just been clinging to the guy.

“Sure,” he said, turning to grin at them. “No sleeping in the same room though.”

Stiles gawked, eyes wide, before grimacing. “Oh,  _God_. Ew. Dad. I  _know_. Okay. Oh, my  _God_.”

Derek looked amused, but the look melted into one of indifference when Stiles elbowed him.

“So are we dismissed now, then?”

“Sure, go,” he said, waving them away, watching as  _Derek_  moved to hold Stiles’s hand. Maybe the kid hadn’t been lying. “And son?” Stiles looked at him, unnerved again, and he felt a pang at it. “Thanks for telling me.” Stiles blinked, surprised again, before smiling.

“Sure, Dad,” he said softly, before giving an uncertain little grin. “Judging by Scott’s reaction, I figured it’d be better to tell you instead of let you find out yourself.” With that, he tugged Derek upstairs, leaving the Sheriff to force himself not to ponder on how Scott had _found out_ …

But still, he thought with a small smile, even if he wasn’t sure what to think of Derek, he seemed to really care for Stiles. He couldn’t deny that, not after seeing him embrace Stiles, not after hearing him speak so openly about his feelings like he was confessing them to  _Stiles_ , not him.

Not to mention…

He knew Stiles’s mom would’ve loved Derek.

 

**Author's Note:**

> The title is from the lyrics of Skinny Love, which I was listening to as I wrote this. c: Haha, maybe not quite fitting, but oh well!
> 
> I hope you like it. ♥


End file.
